It Happened in Autopsy
by punkcatwitissues
Summary: He was somewhere between buzzed and trashed when the light thump of footprints came down the hall. He prayed that whoever it was would just go away. A Palmer/Abby oneshot.


**A/N: To those of you who are waiting on an update for the Middle Ground, I promise it's coming. And for those of you who follow me on tumblr (punkcatknitter DOT tumblr DOT com) this is the story I wrote the ending to in the middle of the night. I've had it half done since long before the finale, I just hadn't figured out how to end it. _  
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**Anyway, this is a one shot, I hope everyone likes it, and please review!  
**

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**It Happened In Autopsy  
**

_I'm sorry, Jimmy._

The words flashed through his head as if on repeat and his headache grew worse. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, this wasn't how things were supposed to end.

He found himself at NCIS because where else could he go? Not back to their apartment. He couldn't. Even knowing she wouldn't be there wasn't enough. They had picked out nearly every item together, each piece of furniture or art purchased to jointly please.

He couldn't be there, not now.

He took the stairs. Less chance of running into someone. Although at two a.m. the odds were fairly low of anyone still being there anyway. He wasn't taking any chances.

It was dark down in autopsy. He walked blind across the room until he reached Dr. Mallard's desk, where he turned on a small lamp. He took a deep breath and rested his hands on the desk, the smooth metal warming with the heat of his palms.

What was he going to do?

The wedding was one week away. One week! And he hadn't had a clue, not one single clue. He thought everything was going great, thought that he was being a supportive fiancée, helping with every little thing she wanted of him.

He was wrong.

Jimmy opened the drawer and pulled out the bottle he knew would be inside. A nearly full bottle of 10 year-old single malt scotch. He stared at the bottle in his hand. He could replace it later, tonight he was getting drunk.

He sat down on the cold floor, leaning against the wall. Unscrewing the cap, he took a swig from the bottle. He swallowed, his eyes watering as the fiery liquid slid down his throat and into his stomach. As the burning turned into warmth he took another sip.

He should have known it was too good to be true. Breena was beautiful, intelligent… she could do so much better than him. The Autopsy Gremlin.

_I never meant to hurt you._

Hurt him? Jimmy let out a snort and leaned his head back against the wall. She had done so much more than just hurting him. Breena Slater had given him back his faith in love, his belief that there was someone out there for him, then she'd ripped it away.

The level of alcohol in the scotch bottle slowly went down as time passed. There was a faint buzzing in his ears and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, but he didn't care. What did it matter anymore?

He just wanted to forget.

He was somewhere between buzzed and trashed when the light thump of footprints came down the hall. He prayed that whoever it was would just go away.

"Jimmy?"

No such luck.

Jimmy squinted as Abby stepped into view, chains jangling. "What's up?" he tried to say casually, raising the bottle of scotch slightly.

She crouched down in front of him. "Are you drunk?"

"I hope so." If he wasn't, it was not for lack of trying.

Tilting her head, she examined the bottle in his hand for a moment. "Is that Ducky's scotch?"

"Yup." It was, in fact, Ducky's scotch. He'd never been much of a scotch drinker, but it was definitely growing on him. "What're you doing here anyway?"

"Working late." Abby stood up and he was hoping that meant she was going to leave, but instead she returned holding one of Ducky's teacups and sat down cross legged on the floor next to him. "Share."

Jimmy sloshed a little of the scotch into her cup. Not much, mind you, because he still had drinking to do himself, and he was not nearly drunk enough.

Abby sipped the scotch silently while he tried futilely to not think about her shoes. She was wearing a pair of chunky black mary janes with a white skull on each toe. And a red bow on top of each skull.

He really liked those shoes.

"You going to tell me what happened, or are you just going to stare at my shoes?" Abby narrowed her eyes and waited.

He tore his eyes away from her footwear and took another swish of scotch. Why not? Everyone was going to know sooner or later. "Breena called off the wedding."

"What?"

He flinched at her too loud words. Great, he wasn't even done drinking and he had the beginnings of a hangover.

"When?" she said in a much calmer voice.

He made a point of looking down at the watch on his wrist. "Approximately three and a… um…" He blinked. "Yesterday," he finally finished. Math was hard.

He could feel her eyes on him, even as he stared at a random point off in the distance. "How long have you been here?" she asked softly, setting her teacup on the floor beside her.

"This long." He pointed at a spot on the bottle. It had been awhile. He did feel a little bit better though. Less like a loser.

Abby stopped him from taking another swig of alcohol by putting her hand on top of his on the bottle. "Why?" she asked, gently tugging at the bottle with her other hand.

He let her pry the bottle out of his fingertips and shrugged his shoulders. "She just said the same crap all girls say. 'It's not me, it's you', that kind of thing."

"You mean, 'it's not you, it's me'?" Abby asked, cracking a smile.

Wasn't that what he said? "Uh, yeah."

Abby put the bottle somewhere behind her and pulled him into a hug. "I'm really sorry, Jimmy," she told him.

His face pressed into a pigtail, Jimmy couldn't help but sniff. She smelled like lemons.

Breena was allergic to lemons.

When Abby pulled away, Jimmy felt a hot prickle begin beneath his eyes, which he had squeezed shut. A tear slid out from under one of his eyelids and he scrubbed at it with the back of his hand, dislodging his glasses.

He felt Abby gently remove his glasses and then take one of his hands in both of hers. "I always knew this would happen," he found himself telling her, opening his eyes and looking deep into hers.

"Knew what would happen?" she prompted, waiting patiently.

"Knew that Breena would leave." Jimmy sighed. "I just thought it would happen sooner. I thought it would happen when I met her dad, or on our second date."

"Aw Jimmy," she whispered. "You're smart, you're funny, and you're good with kids. Any woman would be proud to marry you."

"Except Breena," he couldn't help but murmur, tugging his hands out of her grip.

"She's an idiot," Abby proclaimed, her green eyes flashing. "She doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you do, and don't you forget that."

"You really think so?" Jimmy stared at her.

"With every fiber of my being." Her face was full of nothing but honesty. Even in his current state of inebriation, Jimmy knew she was telling the truth, and it helped.

"Yeah, but I always say the wrong things." Jimmy's words were beginning to slur together as the alcohol continued to make its way through his system. "I make bad jokes at inappropriate times and I feel like I'm back in high school again."

"Come on, Jimmy," Abby said, sliding closer. "How many popular, well adjusted people do you think end up working in autopsy? None, because they're all stuck up and boring. If I had blond hair, wore it in a bun and liked pencil skirts, do you think I'd be the rockin' scientist I am? Of course not. I'd probably be working for minimum wage at Nordstorm's or something."

Jimmy gave a half smile as an image of a strange blond haired Abby flashed before his eyes. She might have looked really hot that Halloween in her Marilyn Monroe wig, but she hadn't been Abby. Not the real one anyway.

Abby kept rambling. "No one in this building is normal. Heck, the bullpen alone is chock full of Daddy issues and repressed emotions. One of these days someone's gonna snap and it's not going to be pretty."

Jimmy blinked at her. "You think someone's gonna snap?"

"I've always imaged it would start with Gibbs strangling Tony, then Ziva would start making out with Tim and all the secretaries that make eyes at Gibbs would chase him into the elevator and blow raspberries on his chest." Abby grinned. "Okay, I may have thought this out once or twice."

He leaned his head against the wall, smiling to himself as he shut his eyes. "You're a good person, Abby Scuito."

Abby arranged herself so she was leaning against the wall next to him, their arms just brushing against each other. "I am, aren't I?"

Jimmy turned and opened his eyes to Abby's grin. "Now what am I going to do?" he asked honestly. His whole future had been built on marrying Breena. Where he was going to live, what he was going to do, who he was going to be with.

And that was all gone now. He wasn't even sure where he would live. In their apartment? What if Breena wanted it? And would he even be able to handle living there without her anyway?

And why didn't he feel as heartbroken as he had five minutes ago?

"I think I just saw smoke coming out of your ears," Abby remarked.

"Huh, what?" He squinted at her, confused.

She laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. "You look like you're thinking awful hard there, Palmer."

"I was."

"Well, I think it's time for you to stop," she announced, standing up and holding out her hands to pull him up. It's time for me get you home while you can still walk."

"Can't go home. Her stuff is everywhere," he mumbled, allowing her to pull him to his feet, even as the room spun around him.

"Okay, fine then. You can sleep on my couch."

"Actually... do you think I could sleep in the coffin?" Jimmy's eyes sparkled with mischievousness. Or drunkenness. At that point it could have been either.

Abby laughed and slung her arm around Jimmy's shoulders. "I suppose I could share."

"You're a really good friend," Jimmy slurred as she led him into the hallway. While they waited for the elevator, he clumsily leaned in and tried to plant a kiss on her lips.

Ducking out of reach, Abby gave him a small smile. "I'll tell you what, big guy, if you still want to do that in the morning, when you're sober, we'll talk, okay?"

He leaned his head on her shoulder. "Okay." It was becoming harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open. "I really hope I remember in the morning," he mumbled against her shirt.

Abby ruffled his hair with her free hand. "Me too. Now let's get out of here."


End file.
